


five things david knew and the one thing he didn't

by skinandearth



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 01:16:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6779128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinandearth/pseuds/skinandearth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>five things he knew about milan and the one thing he didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	five things david knew and the one thing he didn't

**first: he looks at you and it’s like the sun has just started to shine. his gaze is full of warmth and love and friendship and it steals the breath right from your lungs. his eyes twinkle as he laughs at whatever was just said, glancing away shyly and you swear you’ve forgotten how to exist.**

 

His eyes meet yours across the room, brown and twinkling with mischief. He puts his finger to his lips, signaling for you to stay quiet as he pulls what looks to be a rubber band out of his pocket. He releases the band, hitting Timmy right in the back of the head. He gives you the ‘oh, shit’ look as Timmy turns around, glaring behind him even if it’s clear that he has no clue who hit him. You’ll never tell.

 

**second: he touches you and it’s like sparks are racing through your blood. his hand is warm on your arm, all rough callouses mixed with soft skin in between, and it feels like nothing you’ve ever felt before. his grip tightens as he tugs you next to him, and you swear it’s the only thing keeping you upright.**

 

He pulls his hand out, sticking his glove under the other arm before extending forward slightly. It’s warm and rough in yours, all strong grip and a slight sheen of sweat as he shakes it.

 

“Hey. I’m Milan,” He pauses. “Lucic.”

 

“David, David Krejci,” You reply, shaking once before letting go (even if you really didn’t want to).

 

He grins, tapping you on the leg with his stick, “So, I think Coach wants me to start out on your left today. I think Kessel’s supposed to be joining us, too.”

 

You nod, “Yeah, he’s been rotating me with Kessel and Hoggan for a while. We’re third in line for drills today.”

 

He nods, “Sounds good, liney.”

 

**third: you hear his voice even when he’s not talking. you don’t need the words, just need to look in his eyes to see exactly what he means. his voice can be as loud as a siren or as soft as the gentlest breeze in the springtime. it always fills you with warmth, and you swear that it’s the most beautiful music you’ve ever heard.**

 

Milan trails behind you as you walk back to the locker room, head down and eyes stinging after a heartbreaking end to the Stanley Cup Finals, a loss in game six, finding out that Patrice was more injured than he let on, a deep, aching sadness that threatened to overtake you. Milan took your hand in his, leading you to the twin lockers in the center of the room, and it you rested your head on his shoulder and let a few tears escape, no one noticed.

 

**fourth: you watch him, and while he’s not the smallest man, he has a grace that’s unparalleled. he’s fast and strong and powerful, and you know that he’d do anything he could to protect you and you swear that watching him makes you forget how to breathe.**

 

He watched as Milan took the puck, weaving left and right through invisible lines as he came upon the goaltender, scooping the puck and shooting…  _ SCORE! MILAN LUCIC WITH THE GAME WINNING PENALTY SHOT _ and the world goes bright and fuzzy as he vaults over the boards, skating towards his linemate and jumping into his open arms, the crowd screaming and cheering as the bodies of their teammates slam into them but it feels like the world is just for the two of them, that they’re the only ones who matter anymore. 

 

**fifth: you know him. you love him. through a thousand lifetimes, across millions of stars, you’d do anything you could to find him, you’d never leave him. you miss him, you love him and you know he loves you too, and you swear that hearing him say that as he leaves is the one thing that could rip you apart.**

 

The first kiss you share is on the back porch of your shared apartment at midnight. The wind is bitter cold, raising goosebumps on his arms and your shoulders as his lips meet yours. The light above you is dim and flickering slightly, and his lips part slightly, warm and wet and welcoming and you lose yourself in the feeling of him wrapped around you. You drag him back to your and pull the blankets up, fighting the chill as your shared heat fills the space between you. 

 

“I love you.”

 

“I love you, too.”

 

And if it kills you when he leaves, well, you at least do a good job of not letting it show. You don’t leave until he disappears through the terminal, the mass of people squishing closer and closer until you lose sight of the tall, tan man with the curved spine and the beat up blue and white backpack and the backwards hat that you learned to love over the years. He’s gone now, onto the next chapter, and you never knew how much it would hurt to be the one left behind. You miss him, and it leaves an empty hole in your chest, the one that he carved out just for  _ him  _ and you don’t let the tears fall until you’re wrapped in the blanket on your bed, the one that you shared for years. It still smells like him, like  _ home  _ and  _ love _ and you miss him.

  
**(sixth: he misses you, too.)**

**Author's Note:**

> i s2g all these things are gonna kill me it took hours to find suitable things for these losers i hate
> 
> i'll probably do one from milan's pov too. because i have no other responsibilities *gross sobbing under a pile of school work*


End file.
